How You Remind Me
by Misery Monkie
Summary: How she reminds Andrew (Test)...


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How You Remind Me_  
_© MiSERY  
Disclaimer: F-I-C-T-I-O-N. I _WISH_ I owned anyone,  
but sadly Andrew Martin (Test) owns himself and _she_ is Stephanie McMahon.

__

  
  
Never made it as a wise man  
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing  
Tired of living like a blind man  
I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling  
  
He was dazed and seemed confused. He stared, nothing in particular. Nothing that was interesting... to him, anyway. He laid back on the hard sofa, the cheap thing. He closed his eyes with his hands on his face. His fingers slowly slid down his face, over his eyes. His fingers opened his eyes, then they slid down and hung over his lower lip. In seconds his hands fell on his lap. He trailed his eyes upward towards the ceiling; it looked like it would fall over his head and kill him in place. Not like he cared anyway. His eyes made lazy circles. He thought over his life.  
  
Normal childhood.  
  
Loving parents.  
  
Good grades.  
  
Then _Her_.  
  
She ruined his life by walking into it. Maybe even by being born. He wasn't sure.His thoughts were shaken by the noise of a child next door. His basketball bouncing and bouncing. His eyes rolled then closed. He leaned back into the sofa and hung his head back. He ran his fingers through his messy brown hair.  
  
It's been awhile since he had a relaxing warm bath. In fact, a nice homemade meal. He would have made the meals himself, only there wasn't anything in the apartment that made a meal.  
  
He would have bought something. Except he had no money, and the little money he had he bought liquor. The warm bath; big fat chance. The water was cold as ice. Of course, he never minded it.  
  
_And this is how you remind me  
This is how you remind me  
Of what I really am  
This is how you remind me  
Of what I really am  
  
It's not like you to say sorry  
I was waiting on a different story  
This time I'm mistaken for handing you a heart worth breaking  
and I've been wrong, I've been down, to the bottom of every bottle  
it's the words in my head scream "are we having fun yet?"  
  
_He looked around the infested apartment. Roaches making their home in his home. Spiders in every corner, up high in the ceiling. His shit all over the place.  
  
_"You'll never get anywhere living like this."_ She always told him. He listened but never made any change. Just kept things the way they were. Maybe he should've. Then again, what goal is that?  
  
_Sure, you could have kept her... maybe.  
  
"Stop that shit."_ She said once. He hit her. She never once said another word about his problem.  
  
**His problem**.  
  
What problem? He asked himself. There was nothing wrong about having an occasional drink. OK, well, maybe twelve drinks were too much for him. Maybe......  
  
It made his life like a fairy tale; he had a beautiful princess by his side. And everything seemed to be OK. Except, she didn't seem beautiful with her black and blue bruises.  
  
It had been first her thighs. He would squeeze them until they turned red. His fingers made marks, but he didn't care. Second was her back. He would slam her against the wall. Sometimes it had been the wall where something sharp was sticking out. He nearly broke her back. She wanted to die then.  
  
Another time was where in their bedroom... he would have her in bed tied up. Her wrists were tied as well as her legs to the bed posts. He always had her naked. Every scar was shown to him; the scars that he left after he was done with her.  
  
At times, he'd gag her so he wouldn't have to listen to her whining, her whimpering. He would sit on her stomach, have a knife to her throat and whisper, "Are we having fun yet?"  
  
_it's not like you didn't know that  
I said I love you and I swear I still do  
And it must have been so bad  
Cause living with me must have damn near killed you  
  
And this is how, you remind me  
Of what I really am  
This is how, you remind me  
Of what I really am  
  
It's not like you to say sorry  
I was waiting on a different story  
This time I'm mistaken for handing you a heart worth breaking  
and I've been wrong, I've been down,   
to the bottom of every bottle  
it's the words in my head scream "are we having fun yet?"  
  
_After his escapade he would just get up and leave. Never caring if she needed medical attention. A couple of nights later, he remembered he left her on the bed; cold, and near death.  
  
He's take off the restraints and hold her. He told her he loved her. She couldn't hear him though. She was sleeping peacefully with her arms wrapped around herself and her legs bent to cover her naked part showing. Days of rest helped her. But, no use of it would have her to an advantage. He'd do it again, and again until she would pass out and he have no use of her. Always with the words, "Are we having fun yet?"  
  
_Never made it as a wise man  
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing  
  
And this is how you remind me  
This is how you remind me  
This is how you remind me  
Of what i really am  
This is how you remind me  
Of what i really am  
  
_Should he feel regret? He possibly does. She has a way of reminding him of what he really is. An _abuser_. This apartment is his Hell. An eternity of pain, suffering and guilt.  
  
_Crying_, he hears. The same crying that has haunted him forever.  
  
Not hers. Not his. Baby cry.  
  
His body moved a little forward. He opened his eyes and looked down at his shaking hands. "Shh, little baby." he whispered.  
  
How she reminds him, a reminder of what came. A creature he can't hurt. He feels his head spinning. He can't control it. **_IT_**.  
  
It just cries and cries and he can't do anything about it.  
  
_It's not like you to say sorry  
I was waiting on a different story  
This time I'm mistaken  
for handing you a heart worth breaking  
and I've been wrong, I've been down,  
to the bottom of every bottle  
it's the words in my head scream "are we having fun yet?"  
  
_He puts his hands over his ears to keep the sound down. His eyes once again closed and he rocks back and forth on the couch. No use though. He hears her whispering in his head, "Are we having fun yet?"  
  
His head is full of her whispers. He can't think. "Go away!" He screams. Her whispers become high pitched.  
  
"ARE WE HAVING FUN YET ANDREW!?!"  
  
He snaps his head up, eyes open and stands. "You're dead Steph! I killed you! You aren't here!"  
  
She laughs, then repeats, "Are we having fun yet?"  
  
Andrew closes his eyes, "No," he shakes his head, "no more fun."  
  
"Good."  
  
_yeah yeah  
are we having fun yet?  
yeah yeah  
are we having fun yet?  
yeah yeah  
are we having fun yet?  
yeah yeah  
  
_He sits back down, trying to think. It cries. Crying for attention.  
  
"Shh, little baby." he whispers. It won't listen. "And this is how you remind me," he whispers to himself.  
  
_No no..._  
  
**THE END  
  
**feedback?


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